


Me and Mine

by Starofwinter



Series: Fallen [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, GFY, M/M, Sith Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Jango gets himself captured.  Luckily, he has Obi-Wan to rescue him.





	

The lights in the room go out, and Jango looks up, a smirk in his voice as he slurs out, “You’re fucked.”’  It’s taking a lot out of him to stay conscious, but he’s had plenty of practice, and he wants to see this.  There are shouts in Mando’a outside, silenced almost immediately.  The air is charged, the scent of ozone thick.  His cyare is  _ pissed _ .  A red blade cuts through the door and his captor backs up a little, nearly tripping over Jango’s legs in his haste.  

The door falls open, and Obi-Wan strides in, the room illuminated only by the light of  his saber.  His eyes flash for a second as they meet Jango’s, almost glowing in the darkness, and he can almost hear the crackle of power in the air.  “They hurt you.”  It’s a statement, not a question, and Obi-Wan’s voice is cold as deep space.

Jango isn’t sure how he knows, the red light hasn’t reached him, but he shakes his head, immediately regretting it as pain flashes white-hot in his skull.  “‘m fine, uj’ika.”  

“ _ They hurt you _ .”  This time, it’s a low growl, and Jango tries not to shiver.  The instinctive, animal part of his brain says  _ run _ as Obi-Wan stalks inside, toward the Death Watch member who’s still cowering in the corner.  Any other time, Jango might have scoffed at him for being such a coward, but one look at his husband says that maybe he’s not got the worst idea.  “No one touches you without my permission.”  There’s a soft intake of breath as the asshole on the floor opens his mouth to- argue?  Scream?  It doesn’t matter, because with a sweep of the red blade, his head is on the floor.  Obi-Wan crosses the room and Jango’s cuffs click open with a wave of his hand.  He stands up and manages a step before dropping.

Warm hands are on him, and he surrenders to the darkness that rushes to claim his consciousness just as he feels himself being lifted like he weighs nothing.  “Rest, dearest, I have you.  You’re safe now.”  

When he wakes up, they’re on Slave I, and Jango is tucked into his bunk, his wounds bandaged and he feels clean for the first time in days.  He cracks an eye open to see Obi-Wan sitting in the chair next to him, sound asleep with a datapad dangling from his fingers.  He tries to sit up, but he can’t quite muffle the soft hiss as his bruised ribs protest the movement.  Obi-Wan’s eyes fly open, wide and a little wild as they search the room before landing on Jango.  “Hey, hey, it’s just me, uj’ika,” he says, reaching out to rest a hand on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

It earns him a smile, and he relaxes a little.  “I’m sorry, it appears today took rather more out of me than I realized.  How do you feel?” Obi-Wan asks, and the easy way he deflects Jango’s unspoken concern only makes him narrow his eyes.

“A little sore, but I’d be a lot better if you were in bed with me.”  He offers Obi-Wan a lopsided smile and lifts the arm that hurts least.  Obi-Wan hesitates for a moment before slipping off his tunic in one swift movement.  He crawls into bed with Jango and curls up beneath his arm, resting one hand on his chest in a gesture that is clearly possessive.

“You’re  _ mine _ , Jango Fett.  I meant what I said.  No one lays a hand on you without my permission - I will always come for you.”  Obi-Wan looks up at him with a gaze that is full of promise and power.  It’s heady, and if he wasn’t so achy, Jango would be tempted to roll them over to show him just how much he appreciated it.  For now, he settles for kissing Obi-Wan, slow and soft and full of promises of his own.

“Always, cyare.”


End file.
